In Translation
by KSCrusaders
Summary: The most precious part of being alive needs no words. FemShep/Garrus smut, post-endgame. Very minor spoilers for Garrus romance, sidequest, and ME2 endgame.


Disclaimer: BioWare owns Garrus Vakarian and the Mass Effect franchise. And me too, apparently. -.-

A/N: So I wasn't planning on writing Garrus smut...look how well that turned out. I've only written one smut-fic before, and that featured DA:O's Alistair, who is decidedly easier to write for than Garrus in the..erm...anatomy department. Please be gentle, though constructive criticism is always highly appreciated, especially since I'm stepping into unknown territory. Thanks go again to the Garrus Chat folks, who were partially responsible for talking me into this crazy idea, and in particular Aaron for graciously beta-ing again.

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_In Translation_

By KSCrusaders

The Normandy was a buzz of activity in the receding storm of their second "suicide" mission to date. Things to repair, preparations to make, traumatized crew to tend to. Garrus Vakarian walked through it all in a daze, his eyes only for the woman standing next to Joker, datapad in hand.

She caught his unwavering gaze and smiled, jerking her head slightly toward the elevator. The few minutes it took to make her way over to join him seemed like an age. Everyone wanted to offer their congratulations, their thanks. Everyone wanted a moment with their commander and leader. She accepted them with only a little less than her usual patience, though there was only one person she really wanted to see at the moment.

Outwardly calm, she stepped into the elevator with him and hit the button for the captain's quarters. She caught a knowing grin from Dr. Chakwas passing by, and knew she'd have to answer for this later. But right now, she couldn't care less.

When the elevator doors finally shut behind them, Garrus rounded on her and pulled her into his arms, running his hands over her body as though to make sure she was still there. Kaliya Shepard smelled like sweat and blood and smoke, and dear God it was the most welcome scent in his life.

He lowered his mouth to hers, relishing her startled gasp as he pinned her against the steel wall. Adrenaline was still pounding through his veins, adrenaline and terror and the sheer relief of actually having survived. He couldn't believe it. He wouldn't believe it until he could touch her, feel her heartbeat against his.

He broke the kiss to shed his gauntlets and ran his bare hands through her hair, relishing the feeling. Her eyelashes against his skin, her breathing, the sweat from the battle still lingering on her face. The armor they both wore suddenly felt like a prison, and he started unhooking hers with such haste that she couldn't help but chuckle.

Shushing her with a finger to her lips, he took her hands and placed them on the releases for his own armor. She began helping him out of his more restrictive gear, her still gauntleted hands running over the metal. A soft, but impatient rumble came from his throat, prompting her to move faster.

The elevator beeped and the doors opened to the captain's quarters. Garrus unceremoniously kicked the discarded pieces of armor out of the elevator, and they stumbled backwards through the door, Kaliya fumbling for the control panel.

He couldn't let go of her, even if it made navigating their way toward her bed a little difficult. Things got caught and edges pinched, but the two of them were long past caring. She barely had the presence of mind to hit the console next to the bed and lock them in.

When they reached the edge of her bed, she looked like she wanted to say something, but he stopped her. He reached for his discarded omnitool and held it up to his own temple, punching in the same sequence he'd used to disable her translator just last night...an eternity ago. He then pulled her close and did the same thing for her.

"Kaliya," he whispered, letting her hear her name on his lips, untranslated and unchanged. The resonant quality was still there, stronger even, a choir of softer voices underlying a deep rumble. Without the translator, it sounded like he drew out the vowels of her name like a song or a chant.

Her heart leapt into her throat as he knelt to remove her boots. "Garrus..." she whispered haltingly. She sounded so soft, so fragile and light, but he didn't care. It was her voice, just hers with nothing in between, and he relished the sound.

He lifted his head and rested it against her stomach, nuzzling her through what remained of her armor and clothes. Kaliya just about tore her gauntlets off, suddenly needing to feel him with her own hands. She ran both hands along that curious fringe and almost started when his whole body shuddered under her touch.

A low purr started in his throat as his hands worked their way up their bodies, removing the remaining obstructions piece by piece. Her eyes fluttered closed, his hands brushing teasingly against her sides, leaving little trails of heat and fire behind. Pale, delicate fingers traced his markings, his scars, tugged at the eyepiece and pulled it loose, casting it carelessly on the floor.

He stood abruptly and pulled her into his arms, relishing the feeling of soft human skin against his. The juxtaposition of yielding skin and wiry strength, the little gasping sounds she made as he ran his claws up her spine--it finally began to hit home that it wasn't all some cruel dream.

They were alive. After the second suicide mission in two years, they were alive. Together. Here. Garrus buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply--he could still smell her faint, clean soap through the clinging traces of fire and death. He began to whisper to her, the words coming out in a jumbled frenzy.

It began as a low rumble, then rose to a hum as he cradled her close. She caught indistinct words here and there from her language classes_...want...touch...need..._mingled in with her name. She pulled back a little and cupped his face with one hand, pressing her cheek to his.

"Garrus," she gasped as she nuzzled the scarred, damaged side of his face. "Garrus..."

There was no weight to her breathy words, no resonance. That little voice floated along his skin and lit a fire within him. He placed one hand between her exposed breasts and pushed, sending her sprawling back onto the sheets, still unmade from their first night together. She looked up at him, eyelashes fluttering in a silly attempt to be coy.

Not that she needed it. He took a second to relish the sight of her--body sprawled against the sheets, pale skin flushed with desire, pink lips slightly open as she panted for air. She reached up toward him, hooked a hand around the inside of his collar ridge, and pulled hard. He threw his arms out reflexively, catching himself against the mattress with a surprised grunt.

She didn't know any of the words that escaped his lips, but his voice grew deeper and rougher. He wrapped one powerful, taloned hand around each of her arms and pulled them over her head as he knelt between her legs. Impatient, she arched her body toward his, wrapping her legs around him with a flexibility no turian woman could ever have.

One hand still holding her arms captive, his other ran through her hair, along her face, down to her breasts. His mouth followed the path his fingers had taken, and she writhed beneath him, little gasps and fragments of words escaping her lips, her voice increasing in pitch.

Then suddenly, blue light ran along her skin, and with one expert twist of her legs, she'd pinned him under her, a wicked smile spreading across her beautiful face. The mass effect fields shed a pale, eerie glow over both of them. He could feel them prickling and humming against his skin everywhere they touched--it was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. She released her grip on his wrists to run both glowing hands along the length of his body, and he had to turn his face into the sheets to bury his groans.

An angel. She looked like an angel and dear God he had to have her now, biotics be damned. He reached for her hips, but she pushed his hands away with yet another biotic pulse, determined to have her way with him. Garrus closed his eyes and swallowed hard as those angelic hands clasped his, mass effect fields buzzing against the sensitive skin of his palms.

Kaliya leaned down and kissed him, her lips humming with energy as she teased his mouth open. He tasted sweat and lust, and felt that prickling like thousands of little fingers on every inch of his body as she embraced him, pressing her body to his as though she wanted to melt into him. He could feel her rubbing against him, wet and hot, burning with dark energy.

Shifting her body without breaking the kiss, she eased him into her, and a feral growl escaped Garrus's throat. There was no subtlety here, none of the sweet hesitation of their first night. They knew what they wanted, and neither was patient. His thrusts came fast and hard, and she released his hands so he could grasp her hips and guide her. The biotics pulsed along her nervous system, multiplying the feeling of each stroke tenfold. Her head swam, her breath coming faster as she grew dizzy and heady.

Their eyes met, hers glowing with dark energy, his darkened with lust. One of his hands slipped between her thighs just above where they joined, and the mass effect field around her flared as he touched her, little ribbons of blue fire escaping her control. She threw her head back in ectasy, her gasps growing to cries.

_"Ah--Garrus--oh, God, Garrus, I need--"_

_"Kaliya...can't stand--can't--oh, Kaliya--"_

Streams of unheard words mixed with one another's names--the steady throbbing of dark energy growing to a roaring pulse--his scales scraping her skin, sweat burning, pain as his talons dug into her back. Heat that had nothing to do with the blue light swirling around them raced through their bodies.

This was what it was to be alive.

There was too much, too much heat and friction, too much pulsing light and neither of them cared. A feral growl escaped Garrus's throat as he thrust deep within her, feeling her body clench around him and pull him in, as only she could. She gasped his name as they both climaxed, the biotic field around her dissolving in a shower of blue light.

He felt her collapse against his chest, breathing hard, her slighter weight resting fully on top of him. It took him the better part of a few minutes to regain his senses, every nerve tinging with pleasure and exhaustion and the feeling of her.

She didn't move until she heard his voice rising in concern. Something about...skin? Her...what? She couldn't tell what he was saying. A few incoherent sounds of protest came from her throat as he rolled them onto their sides and pulled out of her body. It wasn't until she felt a slight stinging in her shoulders that she pieced together what was going on.

Hearing a hurried apology in his voice, she reassured him with a smile, then gently brushed her forehead against his. There might be bruises, and there might be scars, but she didn't care. She began whispering things in his ear, the sound now a low and reassuring hum.

Garrus fumbled in the dark for the omnitool lying on her bedside table. He was amazed he still had the mental and physical coordination to type the sequence, but their translators turned back on correctly, just in time for him to catch the last of her words.

"...my archangel," he heard her finish. He groaned a little as she lifted her head to smile at him.

"I'm never going to live that down, am I?" He slowly sat up, her slight human body still cradled in his powerful arms.

"No," Kaliya said, smile widening. "But it suits you well. Did anyone ever tell you its significance in human myth?"

Garrus shook his head, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. "Tell you what. You fill me in while I grab some medigel for your back."

"I said not to worry about it, Garrus."

"Well, I couldn't understand you, could I?"

She tried and failed to muster a glare. Instead, she grabbed one of her pillows, swatting him across the chest with it. Garrus laughed and gently pulled himself from her embrace. There was still medigel in the receptacle in his armor. He stood up to go get it, marveling at the trail of jumbled armor, clothing and accessories between the door and her bed.

A mixture of guilt and even guiltier primal pride battled within him at the sight of the six raw claw marks on her shoulders, running down to her upper back. A generous quantity of cooling medigel went over her sweat-dewed skin, and she closed her eyes with pleasure.

"Mmm..." she murmured. "If I get a back massage out of you each time..."

"You've got a weird idea of a back massage, Shepard," he said dryly.

"No sassing the commander after she's saved the goddamn galaxy--again."

"Hah! If I'd known sex brought out your sense of humor, I would have--"

She smacked him with the pillow again, almost causing him to spill the medigel. Still chuckling to himself, he leaned forward and nuzzled her neck, somewhat placating her. She rested her head back against his shoulder, silken black hair brushing against his scales.

"So...tell me," he asked, fingers surprisingly gentle against her skin while he worked in the last of the medigel. "What _is_ the significance of archangel?"

"Archangels," she corrected softly. She let her eyes drift closed again. "In human myth, they are the highest order of angels, the servants of the gods, messengers from divine to mortal. The most powerful among them had their own names and stories." She opened her eyes and turned to smile at him over her shoulder. "You remind me of one in particular."

"Which one?"

"Michael. The right hand of God. The supreme enemy of evil who stands for justice and virtue, at the vanguard of the armies of light."

Garrus's breath caught. The quiet reverence in her voice was not directed toward a religious myth she didn't believe. "I...ah...think you'll inflate my ego if you keep this up, Shepard," he said with a self-deprecating chuckle.

She took both of his hands in hers, laying a tender kiss on the back of each hand, then on the palms. The look in his eyes needed no words, no translation, nor did the rhythm of their hearts beating in unison. He held her close, pressing his scarred cheek against hers as they laid down to sleep.

Kaliya felt Garrus toss the blankets over them both. His arms tightened around her, his eyes closing and breath slowing. And despite all the pain and death in her life, all the uncertainty and danger that still awaited them, here and now, she was blessed. Blessed to be alive tonight, drifting to sleep in the embrace of an archangel.


End file.
